


The Arkenegg

by Starcross



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Dad Bilbo Is Best Bilbo, Dragons, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Just Silly Fluff For Holidays, M/M, The Arkenstone Is An Egg, friends are made, orcs are cool, very serious custody discussions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starcross/pseuds/Starcross
Summary: “I have found the Arkenstone", Bilbo announced. "There is, however, a bit of a problem.""What problem?" Thorin snarled as he stormed towards him."It hatched."In which the King's Jewel holds a scaly surprise, wizards and dwarves are baffled, and Bilbo will fight absolutely anyone over custody - including orc captains and single dragon mothers.





	The Arkenegg

**Author's Note:**

> Uuuuh hi it's been a while I haven't posted and HERE HAVE ANOTHER WORK AHAHA.  
> (More seriously, my apologies to followers, I've been working hard on an original project and I needed something silly and cute for the holidays. I'll be back to my relatively normal update schedule in January!)
> 
> And therefore, have a little Bagginshield fluff packed with dragon babies and puns, ho-ho-ho.

Hobbits, as a rule, did not care much for gems. This was what you got from the combination of a utilitarian approach to luxury, the weaving domination in their crafting industry, and a very grassy, very sedimentary, very un-rocky ground.

Jewels were usually golden or silver, strings of lace or painted lockets. The idea that a rock could hold value just because it was shiny was extremely absurd to a people who valued skillfulness above all things and passed down mundane objects with extreme reverence for the importance they had had to their ancestors.

Still, even Bilbo had to admit it:  the Arkenstone was a pretty sight.

It was shimmering in the darkness, and the Hobbit sighed.

Lobelia would have loved it, he thought darkly. He snorted as he imagined the squeak she would have made if she had held it in his place. His magpie of a step-cousin had always loved bright things, which he had always found made a refreshing contrast to her own staleness.

Frodo would have protested that it was not a very nice thing to think, but Bilbo had long accepted that he was a bit of a bitch sometimes. Lobelia said so herself, after all – she had often compared him to good old Fluffy when they were little, and he had casually accepted that he too was a big pile of quietness who just wanted to lie in front of the fireplace, and bit ankles every now and then.

The Arkenstone had been cold when he had picked it up from the sea of gold, which was quite surprising, as Bilbo would have imagined that being brooded by a creature of fire guaranteed a certain toastiness.

In truth, the cave had been cold as a winter morning. Until the great lizard had started vomiting fire, that was.

It was warm in his palms now, Bilbo noticed, as if the little pebble was drinking his body heat.

He juggled with it for a while, pondering on what he should do.

Thorin had not been himself since they had stepped into the mountain, and while Bilbo could understand that the stress and pressure on the dwarf's shoulders were taking their toll, he did not like this new Thorin at all.

 _His_ Thorin, and he didn’t even think about the fact that at some point he had earned a possessive pronoun, was a stubborn, stuck-up, broody mule whose fits of heroism were just as infuriating as his perfect eyebrows.

His Thorin was half-glares, half-hugs. And Bilbo liked him that way.

This new Oakenshield was half-silence, half-manic looks, and it was almost as if someone else had taken his place when Smaug had fallen from the sky. Someone who cared not about his people, nor about the company, and therefore not about Bilbo – which was obviously not what bothered the Hobbit most, of course not – but only about the bloody Arkenstone.

Bilbo wondered if the thing was cursed. He didn’t believe in curses, mind you, as a resolutely modern Hobbit who enjoyed his share of science, but in a world where wizards showed up to turn trolls to stone and where town-sized flying lizards were a thing, it was healthy to cultivate a little doubt.

Balin had all but confirmed that suspicion when they had talked earlier, and even suggested that it would be better should the Arkenstone never find its way to the new King's hands...

He tapped on the crystal surface, which made a disappointing ‘poc’. He had expected a ‘ting’.

Maybe Balin was right, the Hobbit mused. But if there was anything left of his Thorin in the dwarf dwelling downstairs, he would not give up. And arguing that Smaug had maybe eaten the damn thing, or encrusted it in his scales and dropped it in the lake when he had fallen, would not waver his resolution.

Bilbo had a vision of Thorin diving into the frozen water to search its bottom, and shivered.

The perspective of putting his friend’s downfall into his hand was not a nice one.

But his heart clenched even more painfully when he watched the King move the dragon's treasure by huge armfuls, despair growing as the hours went until he fell down kneeling in the gold, his large shoulders shaken by tears even pride couldn't stop.

Besides, he had been hired for a job, and this was it: in the end, the Arkenstone had been the very purpose of their quest. Sure, they had reclaimed the mountain and watched the obnoxious slug drown into the lake, which had seemed like the long-term objective to Bilbo, but Thorin's attitude told him it wasn't all it was.

The dwarf crushed priceless works of jewelry under his filthy boots as he wandered to the cave, moving treasures aside as carelessly as if it had been manure.

No, it had always been about the Arkenstone, Bilbo thought.

For whatever reason, getting the mountain back meant nothing without that one shiny pebble.

The hobbit tried to recall exactly what had been said in his kitchen as the dwarves discussed plans and strategies and he had been too busy tried to salvage his pantry to pay real attention.

Now that he thought of it, it was probably a good thing that they had emptied it to the last bowl. They had been gone for months now, and he dared not imagine the smell if he had left it all to rot.

“Gandalf, you sly old fox”, he said with grudging affection.

Gandalf would know, he thought. Shame the wizard was on another of his wizardy errands. Well, missing the Big Dragon Fight would be punishment enough, Bilbo supposed.

Now, about the Arkenstone… There had been something about bringing his people together, hadn't it...? Were the dwarves waiting for Thorin to produce the stone to gather around him? It seemed strange to Bilbo, hard as he tried not to judge foreign customs.

Still, there had to be something.

He would find out, he decided. And chose himself what to do, damned be Gandalf and Balin and everyone else.

Sighing, he closed his fingers around the gem and got up. He considered hiding it somewhere, just in case Thorin snapped and shoved him and the thing rolled out in the open – he doubted even he could find an explanation that would ease the dwarf then.

But the idea of parting was it was as repulsive as... as parting with his ring would be.

They would keep each other company, Bilbo thought as he shoved the stone in his pocket.

For a second, it felt as if the ring didn't like it.

Laughing at himself, the hobbit shook the ridiculous idea away and made his way out.

He had a King to see about a rock.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is exceedingly short for me, I'm trying new chapter formats. Next bit will come tomorrow! Feel free to shower me in comments till then, be it "yes good" or "no bad" or 2 pages book reports, I strive in feedback. See you soon!


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